


Ships in the Night

by Mareel



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e16 Shuttlepod One, Episode: s02e20 Horizon, Episode: s02e24 First Flight, Family, First Meetings, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Off-screen Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 20,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/pseuds/Mareel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Jonathan build a relationship on a series of brief encounters in deep space, but a major change in their circumstances complicates things for them, requiring that Malcolm confront his preconceptions about what his relationship with his Captain can or should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smirnoffmule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smirnoffmule/gifts).



> In the episode "Horizon" Jonathan mentioned to Travis that he once considered signing on to a freighter. This is a fork-in-the-road AU set 20 years after the failed test flight of the NX-Alpha (described in "First Flight") in which he made that choice.
> 
> So many thanks to kipli and smith for all of their reading and patience and, most of all, for their encouragement while I was writing this. It turned into something with much more scope than I ever expected it would have.

 

  
_Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,_   
_only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness;_   
_So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another,_   
_only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence._   
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow   


 

“I heard some talk at Vega Colony that Starfleet launched a starship that’ll make warp four-point-five! I’d kill for a chance to fly a ship like that. What’s your take on it, Jon? Do you think they’ll succeed with it?”

I swirl the last of the coffee in the heavy mug, collecting my thoughts. “Who’s the Captain? Did you hear? That might make a difference.”

“Robinson, Robertson… something like that. Anyone you knew?”

The last dregs of the coffee taste more bitter than they should. “Yeah, I knew him. Good man, good pilot… I wish him luck. I’m surprised the Vulcans let it launch… it’s only been twenty years since they shut down the warp program for _safety_ reasons.” 

Twenty years since I walked out the door and onto this freighter, hoping to at least see the stars in my lifetime. ‘Captain A.G. Robinson’… it could have been me if I hadn’t been so damned impatient. 

Captain Mayweather claps me on the back. “Let’s go… we’re due on the bridge. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“I’ll be along shortly, Travis.” I pause at the small viewport in the galley. It’s still the stars… it will have to be enough.

 


	2. Chapter 2

####  _On the freighter station ECS-4_

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the muted lighting in the canteen after the bright lights of the noisy arcade I just passed. There will be plenty of time for shopping and games later during this layover. After our latest unfriendly encounter, the _Horizon_ needs some repairs that are more extensive than our own engineering crew felt comfortable handling. And then there is that possible rendezvous with her sister ship, the _Southern Cross_. I’m not holding my breath on that one happening though – there’s too much that could happen to delay a freighter run. It would be good to be able to convoy with her for a few light years though, the way the piracy has been increasing.

After placing an order for a light meal and a beer, my casual glance around the room doesn’t offer a lot of hope for interesting conversations. It’s likely an off-hour; most of the station crewmembers are probably still on-shift. And that couple in the far corner is clearly engrossed in one another. But there is a dark-haired man sitting alone at one of the small tables with his hand wrapped around a coffee mug. The table is covered with PADDs, but he doesn’t seem all that focused on the work spread out before him.

I deliberately chose the canteen over the bar this evening. The bar will be packed with my colleagues from the _Horizon_ and the crew from the _Venture_ , the other cargo ship docked here, and to be honest, I wanted a change of pace. After seven months in space you’ve heard all the news everyone picked up at the last stop… probably heard three versions of it, along with all the jokes. I like my crewmates, but sometimes it feels more like a family than a crew… complete with family bickering and squabbles. It can’t be easy for the young Captain, trying to maintain some kind of authority over a crew half of whom he’s related to and at least half of whom are older than he is and think they know his job better than he does. I admire Travis for doing as well as he’s doing at it. The man would make a fine Starfleet offic… I catch myself and cut off that line of thought. Starfleet was in the past. This is my life now. Still I can’t deny that I’ve been looking forward to chatting with some of the station crew, sharing the latest news… maybe even news from Earth.

Travis had winked knowingly when I declined the invitation to join him at the bar tonight. “Looking for a little action? Can’t blame you… haven’t seen you involved with anyone on the ship in a long time. Good hunting, Jon.”

I hadn’t bothered to correct the assumption. I long ago gave up on the idea of meeting anyone interested in a long-term relationship, and I’ve seen enough of the havoc that any other kind can wreck on the morale and smooth working of a small crew when things go bad. But it does get lonely.

I glance again at the PADD-covered table and their owner chose that moment to raise his eyes to meet mine directly. His head is tilted a bit and the look in his grey-blue eyes is frankly appraising. I haven’t been the focus of such regard in longer than I can remember, and I can feel my cheeks reddening. But I can’t look away, and acknowledge the gaze with a nod, lifting my glass in silent greeting before turning back to the food just placed in front of me at the counter. Chili tonight… something that has enough variations to offer the possibility of being interesting even on a station like this one. Resequenced proteins and dried ration packs could get pretty unappealing, especially toward the end of a haul when fresh supplies were long gone.

The chili isn’t half bad. But a few bites later, I can’t ignore the feeling that I’m still being watched. Do so few freighters’ crew frequent this place? Looking around again, it does seem to be mainly station personnel. Even off-duty they wear badges, probably also serving as passkeys. The man at the table wears one too, but there’s something different about the way he carries himself. His clothes are a bit neater and his shadow of a beard almost too well maintained, as if he were trying a little too hard to fit in. I know that feeling, scrubbing a hand down my own cheek, the three-day growth feeling just past the scratchy stage, but not yet a comfortable part of me. 

After finishing my meal and making small talk with the waitress and a couple of station techs about their work in communications, I consider whether to introduce myself to the man at the corner table. But that might make me look desperate for company, so I settle for nodding at him again on my way out after settling my tab with the cashier. 

I don’t get far down the corridor toward the arcade before feeling a light touch on my arm. “Excuse me. I didn’t want to disturb your meal in the canteen, but would you mind if I asked if you are from the _Horizon_ or the _Venture_?”

The man’s voice is a surprise. You don’t encounter many British accents out here. “You wouldn’t have been disturbing me. I’ve spent enough time in my own company over the last few months. Yes, I’m on the _Horizon_. How can I help you?” After a moment of silence, I offer my hand and add, “I’m Jon, by the way.” His hand was warm and his firm grip conveyed a strength I hadn’t quite expected. “Reed,” he replied. “I left some documents in the canteen. Would you mind if we went back there for a few minutes? I won’t take much of your time.”

Time is something I have plenty of, and the suggestion suits me fine. I draw up another chair to the small table, glancing at the scattered PADDs, not trying to hide my curiosity. “What are you working on? If you don’t mind my asking? I don’t see many people who bring their work home with them… or even to dinner.”

Reed gives me a wry smile and begins stacking the PADDs neatly. “I was reviewing station schematics for some systems upgrades I’m installing. They appear to be a bit out of date.” He frowns, pushing the stack to the side of the table. ”It’s going to make my job harder, but nothing insurmountable.” 

I nod, remembering how I’d felt about the somewhat haphazardly updated data files and schematics on the _Horizon_ when I first encountered them. “I take it you’re new here then?”

“In a way, yes, but I’m not really attached to this facility long-term. They just brought me in to coordinate these modifications.” 

That fits with what I’d observed about him, about his being something of an outsider. “It’s only my second stopover here myself. Cargo ships don’t get from place to place very quickly. It’s been seven months since our last supply stop, out by Draylax… probably ten years since I’ve been here.” I swallow any additional comments I might make about the joys of travel at warp one point five. 

“That would take some getting used to,” Reed replies, “but I suppose most of you grew up on ships like that and don’t think anything of it.”

“Mostly, yes. And things settle into a routine pretty quickly on a run. In fact, you hope there won’t be anything too exciting happening in terms of unexpected encounters. Those generally don’t end well for the freighter. I’m a pilot, so I spend a lot of time making sure we’re well out of the path of any uncharted asteroids. That ship won’t exactly turn on a dime.”

Reed smiles at that, but steers the conversation to a more serious matter. “Have you had any encounters with pirates or just attacks in general? I’m not trying to pry into your commerce, but I’ve heard quite a bit of talk about it since I’ve been here.” He pauses, but doesn’t wait for a reply. “And to be honest, I saw damage to both the _Horizon_ and the _Venture_. I hope there were no casualties.”

“I’m not sure about the _Venture_ , but we had only a few fairly minor injuries, fortunately. Those guys are getting bolder in their attacks though. We don’t really have the defenses to discourage it as their weapons improve.” Because for some reason I feel like I can trust him, I continue. “We’ve lost some cargo to them though. Better that than our lives, but it makes thing difficult on many levels, so giving up cargo is a very last resort.”

Gesturing to the waitress for a refill on his coffee, he gives me a questioning look. I shake my head, having had more than enough coffee for the day. I reconsider as she delivers his coffee though. “Do you by any chance have any iced tea?” 

That hits the spot… just the way I like it, unsweetened, a trace of lemon. I return to Reed’s question about the attacks. “The pirates were Nausicaan. I remember having some troubles with them maybe ten years ago, but we installed some rudimentary shielding, and they disappeared for a time. But it seems this sector of space is getting more crowded, or they’ve been chased away elsewhere… been hearing a lot about them lately.”

Reed’s interest seems piqued by the specifics. “Nausicaans? Haven’t heard much about them back on Earth in some time. You could be right about territorial disputes though. They don’t sounds like very good neighbors. And I’m sure they’ve been continuously upgrading their weapons.” He sips the coffee, frowning. “This isn’t fresh coffee. It’s probably been standing for hours on the warmer. I’m glad your tea is better.” 

“Yes, I wasn’t sure they’d have any. Must get at least a few people from Earth passing through here.”

He nods, seeming a little distracted for a moment. “Are you from Earth originally? I’d assumed you were a boomer.” 

I smile, shaking my head. “Guilty as charged, Reed. But I’m glad I can pass as one. I chose this life to see the stars, and meet new people. Unfortunately, the Nausicaans didn’t make a very good first impression.”

He laughs at that, and the conversation shifts to other things. It’s late by the time I realize we’ve been here talking for hours. “I should be getting back to the _Horizon._ My back-up pilot deserves some time off too. I’ve enjoyed meeting you. We’ll be here for a few days. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“I hope so, Jon. It’s been a good evening." He stands as I leave, and when I glance back, he’s still watching me go. I do hope we’ll meet again.

________________________________________

 

####  _Two nights later - Reed’s quarters_

When Reed suggested after dinner that we find a bit more privacy, I hadn’t expected that he would be staying in what looks like the station’s VIP guest quarters. It’s not spacious, but is very comfortably furnished and has a large viewport. He murmurs something about washing up and I nod, drawn inexorably to the starscape beyond.

Reflected in the viewport, I see him crossing the small cabin to join me, silently slipping an arm around my waist. “My first quarters on the _Horizon_ were interior, and I still think the bigger cabin with a viewport was the best thing about my promotion to helm officer.” Reed seems content to let me muse aloud. I like that we can take our time with this. “I need the stars… it’s why I’m out here at all. I did think they’d seem closer than what I could see of them from Earth… but there are always more stars, further away.” 

He’s slowly stroking my back, both calming and distracting, as he replies. “I’ll admit I like having the starview too. I spend enough of my time in the dark underbelly of a ship… or station.” 

Part of my mind files that comment for future reflection, that Reed has spent time on starships… But I’m feeling a little awkward, not even sure what to do with my hands. I feel the attraction along with the heat from Reed’s body, and _know_ for the first time in a very long while that this is someone I want to be with. I’m just unsure of how to take the next step. 

“Jon?” His voice breaks through my hesitation and I turn to face him, seeing the question mirrored in his eyes. “I thought you were interested… that you wanted this too. Did I misread that?”

I shake my head and draw Reed into my arms, pulling him up against me so that my interest will be unmistakable. “No, you didn’t. I just… well it’s been a long time…”

Reed presses his own body closer. “You don’t forget how, you know. It’s even more ingrained than riding a bicycle.” 

His hands are warm as they slide up my chest and across my shoulders, and I feel his fingers in my hair as he draws my face close enough for a kiss. Tasting him, returning the kiss, seems to release whatever was holding me back. 

I begin unzipping Reed’s uniform enough to slip my hands beneath it. He pulls back, letting me divest him of the jumpsuit before steering us toward the bed. The cabin lighting is dim but I know I can find my way from here.

_________________________________

 

Morning came too soon. 

I hadn’t planned to spend the night, but I hadn’t anticipated how good it would feel to drift into sleep with Reed’s head on my shoulder, his arm wrapped possessively around across my chest, his legs still entwined with mine. 

This was after we’d drowsed off the effects of our first encounter and I found myself roused again by a firm touch from those strong hands of his. He pushed me back down against the pillow when I tried to lift my head to see his face, murmuring only ‘Trust me, Jon… this will be good.’ And he was right about that. 

Trusting him was never a concern. Trying to stay detached is going to be much harder.

 


	3. Chapter 3

####  _3 days later – Malcolm’s quarters on ECS-4_

The worst part is the silence. I understand it – there is simply no way to communicate easily with a freighter far out of comm range on its run to a remote colony. But that doesn’t make it any easier when I finally put down the tools and the schematics for the day, just wanting to relax.

I’m accustomed to my own company. But it’s surprising how quickly I came to look forward to sharing a meal, a conversation, and a night’s companionship with Jon. I haven’t met many people I could say that about, with my history of brief and failed relationships. Thinking back on those, it occurs to me that it was usually me being unwilling to put in the time and energy to make them work. It was always easier to drift apart, move on. 

This time the drifting apart seems inevitable, no matter how much I might wish it otherwise. But as Jon told me when the _Horizon_ was preparing to depart, it had been a week worth remembering… and he hoped we could meet again one day. 

We’d said our goodbyes in private, but I did something impulsive as I walked with him to the docking bay. I told him that my first name was Malcolm. He repeated it softly, ‘Malcolm Reed… thank you.’ He paused for a moment, taking my hand as if to shake it, but squeezing it instead as he replied, ‘Jonathan Archer... Keeping in touch might be easier if you knew that.’ 

Reluctant to drop his hand, I told him it might. Wishing him safe travels, I turned back into the station without waiting to see the _Horizon’s_ departure.

_______________________________

 

 _Jonathan Archer_ – that wasn’t a name I expected to hear. I was a very young Starfleet ensign when the experimental Warp NX program had been put on hold, supposedly at the insistence of the Vulcans. Archer was a well-known figure, both because of his father’s work on the warp engine design and for his own passion to see its success.

I don’t know that we ever met, though I remember seeing him a time or two at the 602 Club, along with the other officers in line for command positions. But I didn’t recognize him out here… didn’t even know what had happened to him, except that he wasn’t around after the near-disaster of a test flight that halted the program. There might have been a rumor or two, but nothing I specifically recall.

But after looking up some files from the Starfleet database, I don’t know how I could have failed to recognize him. Older of course, but still very fit and definitely attractive… and those green eyes… 

I'm also not sure why it took me so long to tell him my name, though I understand why he might have been reluctant to share his with a stranger. He came out here to start a different life, and being Henry Archer’s son wasn’t a part of that life. And having been an aspiring Starfleet captain is definitely not.

This is one time I’m glad to have landed this assignment. Performing the ECS station modifications provides good cover for making contact with people who have information about the changing political landscape in this sector. But this is the first time I’ve actually met someone intriguing, someone who has no connection with any of that – a man I’d like very much to meet again. 

The chances of that happening randomly aren’t good – travel times are long for a freighter, and delays are inevitable. I made sure Jon knew about the coded message drop service on the stations. We’ll have to make that kind of communication work for us, our only way to bridge the dark silence of distance.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Dear Maddy, 

I know it’s been several months since our last messages, but I’ve been on the move for much of that time. Some of the research I was doing interested enough people at Starfleet that they asked me to implement my systems upgrades at several starbases. It probably sounds more interesting than it was – one station looks much like another no matter where it’s located. 

Except for the last place I worked. It was a freighter station, nothing remarkable. But I met someone there. 

His name was Jon… and I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again. 

Ships in the night… 

With love,  
Malcolm

 


	5. Chapter 5

####  _Approximately 2 months later. In the messhall on the _Horizon_ , in deep space. _

 

Hoping I don’t sound as sleepy as I feel, I poke at my breakfast and finally just ask the question that’s been on my mind half the night. “Travis, have you seen any indication of an intruder onboard in the last twelve hours or so?”

“I haven’t heard anything about one, but I’ll have the sensor logs scanned. What kind of intruder? And where?”

I hesitate, still not sure I believe that what I experienced wasn’t a particularly vivid dream. “In my quarters… he looked human, but dressed oddly, not anyone I’ve ever met.”

Travis responds with a quick smile. “I won’t mention that new friend of yours from the station… I’m sure you’d know if he had stowed aboard. And you wouldn’t be complaining about it!” 

“You’re right about that. I should have asked him to join us. We could use someone with his skills… and not just the ones you’re alluding to! But, no… it didn’t look anything like him.” I’m unsure whether adding the rest will just make me look crazy, but I’ve known the _Horizon’s_ Captain long enough to trust him. “There was one other thing. He said he was from the future...” Another thought just occurred to me. “Maybe, if he was, he wasn’t really here… but it was some kind of projection. Would the sensors pick up anything like that?”

Travis shakes his head. “That would take scanners a lot more sophisticated than this old ship would ever have. We’d be lucky to have a record of someone actually opening a cargo bay door.”

I get up from the table, pacing the length of the small mess hall before I realize what I’m doing. After pouring myself another cup of lukewarm coffee, I return to the half-eaten eggs and toast.

“What did he want? This intruder from the future?”

Despite all of my speculation, there is really only one answer. “Me.”

In the twelve years he’s been Captain, I’ve seldom seen Travis so completely at a loss for words. But I’m reassured that at least he isn’t automatically dismissing it as a dream. “Well at least he didn’t abduct you…“

Time to drop the other shoe. “Actually… maybe he did, or maybe it was another projection. But he said he needed to show me something, and we instantly seemed to be elsewhere – in a large assembly hall watching someone giving a speech.” My recollection of that scene is vivid. “He said that speaker was Admiral Archer… _me_ , in the future… addressing a group he called the Federation of Planets. And that it was important, and wouldn’t happen without my having been a part of its formation.”

Travis has been watching me as I recounted the experience, his eyes wide. “And you believe him? Believe he was really showing you something from the future?” He shakes his head, clearly unsure about any of this. 

“I don’t know – I thought I did at one point, but it sounds so impossible now when I talk about it. But even if the experience was real, he left me back in my quarters alone and with no idea how I’m supposed to react or what he expects me to do.”

“He didn’t say anything else? Just vanished? That would make for a great campfire story!”

I give up on pushing the eggs around my plate. “No, he left me with a final thought. He said ‘It’s not too late. Make it happen, Jonathan.’ Then he walked out through the door…” I smile and shrug my shoulders before adding, “and probably did vanish.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

####  _On Station ECS-6_

He’s not here. And I don’t know if he’ll get here before I have to leave. This is the next station on the _Horizon’s_ best trajectory from ECS-4 to Vega Colony, which Jon had mentioned as their destination. But a lot can happen to change a planned course. It could be as benign as answering a distress call, or as serious as another Nausicaan attack. Or they might have altered their route to avoid rumored trouble spots. I could drive myself crazy imagining what might have happened. But until I hear from him, I won’t know. 

Or he might have changed his mind about wanting to meet again. It wouldn’t be my first experience with that. It became another reason to walk away first from most relationships. But I didn’t get the feeling that Jonathan would do that – he didn’t need to tell me his last name and add that it would make it easier to stay in contact. So I’ll hope he didn’t have a change of heart.

I’ve been on ECS-6 for ten days, working as slowly as I can without raising any suspicions about why I’m still here. I haven’t stooped to sabotaging my own work to delay completing it, but I did consider whether a sudden mild illness might add a day or two to my stay. 

My message drop held only the coded communications I expected from my contacts here – nothing from Jon. I’m sure if the _Horizon_ passed by here ahead of schedule he would have left a message for me. 

It’s a fairly long haul to the next station for them – several months of travel time. Some rearranging of my schedule should make it possible for me to be in that area then, but a reconfirmation from Jon would be helpful. 

Although these message centers are purported to be secure, I doubt anyone really believes they are entirely so. I need to use Jonathan's full name, but don’t really dare write much of a personal nature. I settle for telling him that I’m sorry to have missed him here, and that I hope they’ll be stopping at the next station on their route. I don’t want to give anyone any information about his ship or destination, but want him to know I will be there. 

It feels so impersonal. I’d been hoping to hear his voice, see his smile, and share a few days and nights. As I told my sister in a letter, it does feel like we’re passing one another in the darkness with only the slightest of signals exchanged. 

But that will have to be enough, for now.

 

________________________________________________

 

####  _Approximate a week later on ECS-6_

After reading Malcolm’s message several times, I download it to a data card to keep. I’m not sure why. It’s necessarily brief, and vague enough that no one else reading it would know where he’s proposing that we meet. But it’s the only contact with him I’m going to have until the _Horizon_ makes her way to ECS-7 Alpha about four months from now, assuming no delays or course changes. 

Rereading his words is no substitute for seeing him again. I knew we were going to arrive here well behind schedule, but there was no way to let him know that. We’re cutting our stay here very short to try to make up time – stopping only long enough to take on food and medical supplies. 

Apparently I missed him by a week or so. I’ve been looking forward to seeing him again almost since we parted… when he told me his name. It seemed like something he didn’t share readily with the strangers he might hook up with, almost as if it was a gift to me. 

I wanted to tell Malcolm about my dream or visit from the intruder who called himself Daniels. It hasn’t happened again, and I’m almost ready to agree with Travis that it was a particularly vivid – and imaginative – dream. But I’ve wondered if it might be someone Malcolm knows anything about. I got the impression that he might have better contacts at Starfleet than he was willing to admit or discuss. 

But mostly, I’m sorry that I didn’t get to see him, hear his quiet laughter, and wrap my arms around him before falling asleep for a few nights. 

I don’t know if he’ll ever see the reply I leave for him. He might have some means of receiving forwarded communications in conjunction with his work on the stations. I make sure it’s not too personal a message, simply telling him I hope we can meet soon, as he suggested. 

And that I’m looking forward to it.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Dear Malcolm, 

I’m always glad to hear from you, cryptic though your messages may be. Don’t worry, I’m not prying for details about your work. 

But the other matter you mentioned has me intrigued. Who is this man of transient encounters? You’ve never mentioned a romantic interest to me… not since that boy you met on summer holiday when you were fifteen. This must be someone especially important to you. 

You make it sound hopeless. Is there really no way for you ever to be together? Does he realize you want that? 

Even ships in the night must have a home port. 

Love,  
Maddy

 


	8. Chapter 8

####  _Station ECS-7 Alpha_

“What the hell was _that_? Sounded like…” The words are barely out of my mouth before Malcolm jumps up from the table and runs toward the corridor outside the canteen. He’s not the only one – people are shouting, screaming and running in all directions. Pausing only long enough to grab the carry case that Reed always seemed to keep nearby, I chase after him. 

The hallway is filling with smoke in the aftermath of what had to have been either an attack or an explosion. A voice on the loudspeaker is telling people to stay calm, get to their ships if possible or to some designated shelter area on the station. I don’t pay much attention to the instructions – I’m trying to catch a glimpse of Reed. He’s running counter to the flow of the crowd and I elbow my way through, not more than a few meters behind him. I almost miss seeing him climb through a hatch he must have pulled open. It didn’t close behind him and I scramble in to follow.

We’re in a narrow, low-clearance accessway, low enough that I have to stoop to make my way through it – Reed’s height probably offers him the advantage of being able to stand upright. I catch up with him at the third cross juncture; he’s pulling a large panel off the wall, sending a shower of sparks cascading around him. I open the carry case, putting it down near his feet. 

“Here – you left this behind. Maybe there’s a tool that could help.”

He glances up at me, nodding, and retrieves what looks like a spanner from the case. Reaching into the tangle of conduits and wiring, he begins making a series of adjustments. Suddenly another blast rocks the station and an acrid greenish vapor fills the niche where he’s working. 

“Malcolm! Get out – **PLASMA**!” He ignores the warning, continuing his work. “ **NOW,** Malcolm!” 

But it’s too late. The station shudders again and a spark sets off the plasma, instantly engulfing the alcove in lurid green flame. I’d seen an extinguisher back down the accessway a few meters, and run to grab it. 

When I get back to fight down the blaze, Reed is rolling on the floor, his hands clutched close to his chest. It’s clear he has been badly burned – I’m surprised he’s not screaming in pain. His face is contorted with the effort he’s making to control himself, and I try to reassure him as I strip off my shirt, wrapping his hands in it as best I can. It’s all I can do without a medkit.

“Jon, get away! Could blow again… don’t know if I…” His voice, already weakening, trails off as he passes out. 

I’ve never been to the medical bay on this station, but if it’s like most, it’s small and understaffed. And probably overwhelmed with the injured right now. If Malcolm is going to keep the use of his hands, he needs immediate treatment by a medic who knows how to handle plasma burns. 

Fumbling for my communicator as I gather Malcolm into my arms, I manage to get a channel to the _Horizon_. “Archer here, on the station, there are casualties… bringing a plasma burn case over to Rianna. Alert them to stand by in the medbay. Out.”

Not waiting for a reply, I make my way slowly back down the accessway to where we’d entered it. It surprises me that no one else has come down here; that could mean the damage was worse elsewhere. But the smoke has cleared somewhat when we emerge onto the main corridor. I shift Reed in my arms, now that I can finally walk upright, and head for the docking bay. When we’re almost there, several of my _Horizon_ crewmates meet us and I reluctantly let them carry Malcolm the rest of the way to the medbay. But I’m right behind them, not letting him out of my sight. 

Rianna Mayweather has more than enough experience at treating this kind of injury. The ancient warp drive and other engineering systems on the _Horizon_ malfunction more often than I feel comfortable about, and plasma fires are all too common. I’ve never been more glad to see anyone than I am to see her, already putting on a surgical mask and gloves. 

“His name is Reed… plasma burns to both hands. He was in direct contact with the system when it vented and sparked. Please… can you save his hands?”

She doesn’t waste a lot of words on me, already focused on her patient, but does catch my eyes, saying only, “I’ll do all I can, Jon.”

One of her assistants ushers me to a stool and begins cleaning some small wounds I didn’t even realize I had. “You need to sit quietly for the moment, Jon. I don’t want you going into shock too.”

I start to reply that I’m fine, but a wave of dizziness hits me, accompanied by a stronger wave of nausea. “Plasma… must have inhaled some...”

 


	9. Chapter 9

####  _Medical bay on the _Horizon__

This has to be a sickbay – even before I get my eyes half-opened the intensity of the lighting is a dead giveaway. At least that means I’m not blind. The last thing I remember is a plasma fire in the conduit… searing pain… Jon…

I don’t feel too much pain now. At least whereever I am, they have the good painkillers. But I can’t move much… can’t move my hands at all. And my neck itches from some kind of dressing on it. With no way to scratch it. 

Hands… Oh god, what happened to my hands? I remember hearing Jon yelling that I needed to get back, that there was a fire, but all I could think of was finishing what I’d started. Activating the defense system… did I get it done in time? 

And my hands… I can’t really feel them much. I try to look, but can’t manage to lift my head far enough to see them. Damn it. I’m useless without them… useless in any part of what I do. 

I can see movement in the room out of the corner of my eye, and try to speak. My voice comes out as a hoarse croak of a ‘hello?’

Apparently it was enough. In a moment, someone is at my side, looking at me with concern in her eyes.

“Are you in pain, Mr. Reed? It’s close to time for another dose…”

“Wait!” I manage to get the word out clearly, and she puts down the hypospray she’s preparing. “No… not bad pain. Where am I? You know my name?”

She rests a hand lightly on my chest, and her voice is meant to reassure. “You’re in the medbay on the _Horizon_. Your friend Jon brought you here after the attack on the station. Are you sure you’re not hurting? There was a lot of burn damage to your hands. Damn plasma burns can be very painful. I know – I worked in engineering myself in my younger years. My name is Rianna Mayweather. Jonathan told me your name when he brought you in.”

“Jon? Injured too?” I try to turn my head to the other side to see if he’s lying on one of the other beds, but don’t see him. 

“Not badly injured, no. But the anti-nausea medication made him sleepy, so I wanted him to get some rest. I’ll call him now if you like.”

I can almost feel another presence before I see or hear him. “No need, Rianna. I’m here, Malcolm.” His fingertips are cool against my cheek and I lean into the touch, barely whispering his name, feeling a little overwhelmed by everything that’s happened. I don’t even know how long it’s been. 

The doctor doesn’t ask Jon to leave, but goes ahead with unwrapping first one hand then the other to change the dressings. She is as gentle about it as she can be, probably, but it still hurts like hell when the air hits the raw skin. 

“Are you sure you don’t want another painkiller?” Her voice is concerned, but I like that she’s leaving the choice to me. 

I take a deep breath and involuntarily bite my lip as she examines the range of motion of my fingers. “Not yet… want to talk first… not sleep.”

“All right, then. I’ll save you some questions. Your hands are both pretty badly burned. If Jon hadn’t gotten you here as fast as he did, it would be worse though. Those plasma burns penetrate deeply in no time. But it looks like you will have the use of your fingers on both hands, though I can’t promise the dexterity you’re probably used to having."

“I work with my hands… everything I do…”

Jon pats my shoulder and leaves his hand there. I try to focus on that rather than the pain, and instead of the thoughts that are running through my mind about what I won’t be able to do. 

“It’s too early to know for sure. There are probably specialists on Earth who would be able to help more. If you plan on going back that way any time soon.” The doctor finished rebandaging my hands, leaving me with a bit more freedom to move my arms at least. 

“Thank you.” I pause, not knowing how much I should be saying about my plans. “I expect to be back to Earth at some point… not sure how soon.”

She nods, picking up the hypospray again. I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I’d like to talk to Jon before sleeping again.”

“Just let me know then. I’ll be in the office right over there.”

________________________________

 

Jon has pulled a chair close to my bed, positioning it so that I can see his face. He looks tired, older than he should look. As if following my thoughts as I study his face, he shrugs and comments quietly. “It’s been a rough couple of days, but I’m fine. Now that I know you will be. You had me worried…”

I wish I could touch him, to reassure him, but I still can’t move my wrapped hands very far. “I’m hard to kill, Jon. You shouldn’t have worried.” My mouth is dry. I should have asked the doctor for some water. “Could you maybe find me something to drink? I’ll never be able to talk with my throat so parched.”

He’s up in an instant, nodding. “I should have brought you some already. Be right back.” I watch him walk across the room, dressed much more casually than when we met for lunch on the station. The soft fabric of his trousers clings to his hips, and I smile, admiring the view. 

Returning with a water bottle and a straw, he slips his arm behind my shoulders, helping me to lift my head enough to drink. Ship’s water never tasted so good. “Just say something when you want more. I’m glad to help.” Placing the bottle on the counter near the bed, he cups my face gently with his hand before settling back into the place he’d claimed. His next words surprise me. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

We’ve never talked much about being together, or about being apart for the long stretches of time between our meetings. Now, after touching on his feelings, he veers off on a tangent. “What were you working on? You said you didn’t know if you did… _something_. Just before you passed out.”

I don’t remember much about what I might have said; I’d been so focused on activating that last relay. We’ve never discussed any details of my work. I’m sure Jon has been curious, but he never asked more than very general questions, as if inviting me to tell him more in my own time. This is that time. 

“It’s a very basic defensive system for vulnerable sections of the station. Do you know much about the polarized hull plating that Starfleet has been testing on their ships?”

“I’ve heard about it – the engineering team wishes we had something like it every time we have a run-in with marauders.” 

Jon’s voice is rueful, sounding as if he wished that too, but was used to keeping his wishes in line with what might be attainable. To be honest, that worries me. The Jonathan Archer I remember hearing stories about was eager for the smallest upgrade, hungry to get out into deep space with the best possible ship. Has he buried that part of himself so deeply? 

“Well, after a number of incidents where repair stations were being attacked, probably by the same kinds of ships as your marauders are using, Starfleet and the Earth Cargo Service agreed to the installation of certain defensive systems. It was kept very quiet, for obvious reasons. I had done some of the development of those systems, so they wanted me to do the installations.” I don’t add, at this point, that this was only partly why it’s me doing it. No need to bring up my whole undercover ops background; the habit of secrecy is hard to break.

Jon nods, reaching for the water bottle again, offering it to me before taking a sip himself when I decline. “That makes a lot of things fit together then. The junction where you were working at the time of the last hit on the station held controls to that system?”

“Yes, I was trying to activate the system, polarize a section of plating as it were. I hadn’t gotten the controls routed to a command center yet. That was the only place where it could be activated.” I pause, and then add. “And I was the only one who knew to do it.” I cough a little; my throat must be more raw than I thought. 

He doesn’t ask this time, simply helps me lift my head for more water. “It’s an effect of the plasma we inhaled. It irritated our throats. Rianna says it will pass. We just to need to drink often until it does.”

I hadn’t thought about that – my focus has all been on my hands. 

“You must have succeeded, Malcolm. That hit was the last we felt. If they attacked again, it was deflected. I don’t know. Is there someone on the station you need to speak with? I can arrange that, I’m sure.”

“There is, but I don’t want to meet with anyone while I’m flat on my back. Could I record a message for you to deliver? I’ll do that once I get some information from the doctor about how soon I might be able to get back there.”

Jon smiles as he replies. “So anxious to leave already? I was going to ask if you’d ever considered joining a ship like the _Horizon_.” His tone is light, and I’m not sure if he’s serious or not. "But you have a much more interesting life, it seems. Cargo runs get pretty routine, even when interrupted by unpleasant encounters of the piratical kind.” Almost as an afterthought he adds, "Although you do get to see the stars, meet some new species… new to me at least.”

There’s a wistfulness in his voice that makes my heart hurt. This _is_ still the man who wanted to explore the unknown. I decide not to answer his question directly. 

“What about you? Have you ever thought about going back to Starfleet? They could use someone with your experience. There is another NX class ship being built. It won’t be ready for some time yet, but the NX-01 looks like a good start. It needs more defensive systems though.”

Jon shakes his head, his eyes lowered. “Thought about it? Of course, who wouldn’t? Even the Captain of the _Horizon_ said he’d give an arm and a leg to fly a ship like that. But realistically? I don’t see how it’s possible. I walked away from all that, knowing the choice I was making.” 

He’s silent for a long time, and I don’t interrupt it. When he speaks again, his voice holds more regret than I've ever heard from him. “I wanted to see the stars in my lifetime.”

____________________________________

 

I don’t know what to say to that. I wish I could reach for his hand to let him know I understand the conflict he’s living with. Damn these hands. I can’t do a thing for myself. I hate being an invalid, needing people to take care of my most basic needs. And what if the doctor is overstating the chances for recovery. Will I ever be able to work again? To make a delicate adjustment to a microcircuit… defuse a mine… alter the trajectory of a torpedo just in time as it races toward its target? 

My thoughts spiral far beyond those things. Will I be able to eat or dress myself? I know prosthetics are a last resort, but what if I never can feel anything that I touch? I look at Jon sitting close to me and am suddenly overwhelmed by the fear that I might never be able to touch his cheek, or slide my hand across his chest and down his belly. Or wrap my hand around us both as the tension builds between us in bed. 

I try to put all of those thoughts far back in my mind, but when I speak his name, it comes out sounding almost plaintive to my own ears. “Jonathan?”

He gives me a worried look and reaches for the water bottle again. I shake my head. That’s not what I need right now. He wraps his arms around me anyway, and I’m sure he can feel the trembling in my shoulders as I press as closely against him as I can. He doesn’t say much, just murmurs my name again and again as he holds me. 

“Are you in more pain, Malcolm? Shall I call Rianna?” he asks as I try to get myself back under control. 

I shake my head a little and tell him no in a ragged whisper. “Don’t go… will be okay.”

He pretends to believe me, and lets me calm myself in my own way. But when he finally does release me, there is a damp spot on his shirt that neither of us mentions. 

He touches my bandaged hands for the first time, carefully, but as deliberately as he would have taken my hand to reassure me under other circumstances. “You will be more than okay. You’ll be fine. I’m here… just let me help."

 


	10. Chapter 10

####  _Jonathan's quarters on the _Horizon__

“I hope you don’t mind if we stop in my quarters before going over to the station.” After keying the door open, I stand back to let Malcolm enter ahead of me. He’s looking much better today – getting the bandages off his hands was a big morale boost for him. He has lightweight close-fitted gloves to wear most of the time to protect the fragile new skin, but he can move his fingers some and his arm movement is unimpaired. 

“Not at all. I’m just glad to be out of sickbay. No offense – but a sickbay is pretty much the same everywhere, and they get old after you’re stuck there for a few days.”

I laugh, knowing he was getting anxious to get back to doing things and being anywhere else. “Rianna told me she talked to Travis. He agreed to delay the _Horizon’s_ departure for a couple of days until you can get settled back on the station and be sure your hands are still mending. I’ll be able to stay with you there until we have to leave.”

Malcolm has been looking around my small cabin, his gaze lingering on my bookshelf and small collection of personal items. “That was generous of him – to agree to delay a freight run just for me.” He gives me a somewhat suspicious look. “Did you ask him for a delay as well?” 

“Are my motives so transparent? Yes. I mentioned that I’d like to be sure you’re okay before we leave comm range. He said he’d see if he could work out something with the schedule. Apparently he did – or he couldn’t say no to his mother when she made the same request.” 

His smile becomes the little half-smirk that I haven’t seen from him since his injury. “Ahh, the complexity of the chain of command on a family ship. That would take some getting used to…”

“I thought it would be more complicated than it really is. Everyone is pretty good about respecting the Captain’s prerogatives, but there _is_ a lot of discussion about things and Travis, in particular, tends to try to build consensus. His father had a slightly more authoritarian style, but he was quite a bit older when I joined the crew.”

Malcolm hasn’t been trying to use his hands much yet, but reaches out to touch the water polo ball sitting on my nightstand. “What’s this? Doesn’t quite look like a football.”

“Water polo… I played for Stanford. One thing I really miss out here is any way to get recordings of matches. But the ball is my stress-relief. Bouncing it around somehow frees up my mind.” 

He nods, engrossed in my small library of old books as I’m tossing a few things into a duffle for the two days on the station. “If you see anything that looks interesting, you’re welcome to borrow it. Sometimes I just like the weight of a book in my hands when I’m reading.” 

He reaches for a well-worn thin volume. “Yeats?” I smile, both at his choice and because he’s using his fingertips to open the book. 

“One of my favorites. It was my mother’s copy. You can add it to my bag here if you like, so you don’t have to carry it around.” I hesitate a moment, but continue the thought I’d started. “I’m glad it looks interesting to you.”

“I’ll admit to collecting a few books myself, Jon. Most are more military and naval history but there’s some Joyce as well. I didn’t bring any along on this trip though. I tend to travel light, except for my tools.” He doesn’t put the book in my duffle, but is carrying it with him when we leave my quarters. 

We’re halfway to the docking port, but I stop. “Your tool case, yes! I forgot to tell you that I went back to that accessway where you were working and found it still there. I couldn’t find the spanner you were using at the time of the fire, but I brought the kit back with me. You can wait here and I’ll run down to the medbay and grab it." 

“Thank you! Some of those tools would be hard to replace out here. And my data PADDs. I appreciate it.”

 

_____________________________________________________________

 

####  _Malcolm’s quarters on Station ECS-7 Alpha_

Malcolm’s quarters appear to have been mostly unscathed by the damage to the station. Some PADDs were on the floor, having slid off the edge of the desk, but everything else looks as it did when we were last there, just before we went to dinner at the canteen four days ago. 

I put the toolkit down and toss the duffle onto the bed. Malcolm, still holding the book, goes immediately to the viewport. One arm of the station is visible from here, and the damage is evident. Several small craft are hovering near that section, probably repair crews. 

“It could have been worse. The deflection system helped… I wish I’d gotten it online a day earlier though.” 

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, I try to assess the damage for myself. “At least it provided some protection. What do you think they were targeting? That section we can see from here looks like just one of the docking wings.”

Malcolm points toward the far left of the viewfield. “Over there – you can’t quite see it from here – is one of the two power plants for the station. It can run on one, but that’s not general knowledge. It looks like they were trying to take out that section of the station. But those are areas that I focused on in the modifications I was making, fortunately. They got one hit on that section just before I activated the polarization. That’s the hit that triggered the plasma leak and fire.”

I pull him a little closer when I feel his shudder. My memories of that fire are still vivid too. “I didn’t know why the attack stopped at the time. I’m just glad it ended before that whole accessway filled with plasma.”

He nods in agreement, pointing toward the damaged section. “Two station crewmen were killed when that section decompressed from the first hits. There are emergency bulkheads, but those men were doing maintenance close to the hull of the station, very near the point of impact.”

Something still puzzles me about all of this. “Why would anyone attack a freighter station? If they want to hijack cargo, why not attack the ships when they’re far from any help?” I can hear the bitterness in my own voice. “Like they attack the _Horizon_.” 

Malcolm is silent for a moment, and then moves away from the viewport to carefully lay the Yeats book on the nightstand before coming back to my side. "This isn’t exactly public information, but I trust you, Jonathan. For the most part, they aren’t after the cargo. There are political factions active in this part of space that want the stations to use as bases for their own operations – weapons smuggling, mainly. I can’t really say any more about it though.”

I don’t ask how he knows this, but he seems very sure of his information, and it’s unsettling to me as a freighter pilot. Apparently it’s also disturbing to Starfleet and the ECS, enough so that they have Malcolm upgrading defenses on key stations. 

My throat is getting dry again, still feeling the aftereffects of the plasma. “Do you keep some water here? Or a beer… or anything to drink?” 

“Yes, I think there is some bottled water in the small cooler compartment next to the desk. No beer, sorry. We could go down to the canteen if you like.”

I shake my head and find the water, offering it first to Malcolm. “We might have to go there later. This is the last bottle.” I notice the tool kit where I left it by the desk, and have an idea of something that we should do, sooner rather than later.

“Malcolm, we don’t know when whoever attacked here might be back. You told me that the only place the defenses could be activated was from that one junction. How close were you to completing the connection so that it could be triggered from somewhere in a command center or control room?”

He passes the water bottle back to me, and I finish it. “Not too much work left on it. A few hours maybe, but…” He looks at his hands, shaking his head. “It would take me a lot longer now, and I’d still worry if I was getting connections tight enough.”

I smile and take his hands in mine, careful not to squeeze them. “You won’t have to do that. Let me help. You have the schematics and the tools. Talk me through it. I’ve done some engineering repairs in my time.”

He’s surprised by the suggestion, frowning initially, but nodding his agreement after some consideration. “It can be delicate, fussy work. But it’s not like you’ll be disarming a bomb or anything. If a connection is bad, it simply won’t work and we go back to trace the problem.” 

“Do you need to consult with anyone on the station before we do it? I’d like to get it started now, in case it takes longer than you expect.”

His laughter is a welcome sound after the days of worrying about him. “No, I’ve been working alone on it. The station commander knows what modifications are being done, but leaves me to do it. And, to be honest, the fewer people who know the details of the system, the happier I am about it.”

I pick up the tool case and wait for him by the door. “You make it sound almost covert.” His reply to my somewhat flippant comment is more serious than I was expecting. “In a way, it is.”

I’m not sure I’ll ever fully know this man, but every hour I spend with him makes me want to learn more.

 


	11. Chapter 11

####  _Night in Malcolm's quarters on Station ECS-7 Alpha_

Completing the installation went well – it only took a little longer than it would have taken me to do it myself. Jon has steady hands and a good understanding of control systems. I don’t know if that’s from his years on the _Horizon_ or is something he picked up from his father. He told me they used to build and fly models together when he was young. I didn’t tell him how much I envy his having had that kind of relationship with his father. One day I’ll tell him something of my family history… if we have more days together. 

I should be asleep, but if this is the last night I’ll have with Jon for the foreseeable future, I don’t want to waste any of it in sleeping. He is dozing now -– he said I wore him out, but sounded very content. I wasn’t sure what would happen when we got back to my quarters after dinner. I took a mild pain reliever, mostly to make sure my hands didn’t start aching after using them for a few light tasks. Jon was being so careful around me, trying to make sure he didn’t unthinkingly take my hand. He’s normally so tactile… and I missed his small touches. 

He said he needed a shower after all the time we spent in the accessways, so I settled down on the bed with his book of poetry. A few minutes later, still unshowered but naked, he emerged from the washroom. 

“Malcolm… I thought you might join me. Or are you supposed to keep your hands dry?” 

I was a bit surprised at his forthright invitation. He has tended to let me take the lead in initiating our encounters, though he’s always an enthusiastic and responsive partner. I don’t know why I hesitated. But he didn’t take his eyes from mine as he crossed the short distance to the bed and sat down next to me. “Is something wrong?”

He took the unopened book from my hands, placing it on the stand behind him, and lightly touched my cheek. I don’t know why I couldn’t find the right thing to say. When he slid his hand down my arm until it rested on my still-gloved hand, I felt a small tremor in it and suddenly realized what I feared. 

“I don’t know yet if I’ll have much sensation in my fingers. And I don’t know if you want to see those hands as they are right now. They aren’t a pretty sight, and I don’t want you to feel obligated… in any way…”

He wrapped an arm around me then and kissed me, effectively quieting my fears. I don’t remember everything he murmured to me, only that it made me sure that he still wanted very much to be with me in every way, and that nothing about my hands – or any other injury – would ever change that. 

I began trying to peel off one of the gloves, but Jon took my hands and carefully did it himself. After setting the gloves aside, he cradled my hands between his and began stroking a thumb across my palm. And I could feel it! Not just as pressure, but as I’d felt it before when he would do that… sending a tingle through my whole body. 

“See, you felt that, didn’t you?” His voice was husky; I don’t know if was from a dry throat or the emotion of the moment. Maybe both. “Now touch me… use your fingertips.”

I turned my hand in his and drew my forefinger across his palm. It felt warm. Wanting more evidence, I reached up to touch his face, the roughness of stubble giving way to the soft skin of his cheek, before tracing my fingertip across his lips. I could feel the differences. Laying my other hand on his chest, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat, and his shiver when I brushed against a nipple, I could finally believe everything was going to be fine. 

Kissing him, but without letting the kiss deepen yet, I whispered that I’d like that shower now, if he still wanted company. He didn’t have to be asked twice, offering me his hand as he got up from the bed. “I’ll make sure the water isn’t too hot for your hands… and let me do the soaping.”

I laughed then, telling him that I wasn’t sure his motive for that wasn’t ulterior. His blush was all the answer I needed.

 

________________________________________

 

I don’t remember drifting into sleep. With an arm thrown across his chest and my head on his shoulder, my last conscious thought was of how I could get used to this – being together.

The sound of a normal message alert wouldn’t even wake me most of the time. I keep the volume turned low enough to ignore it until morning. But this isn’t that alert. It’s a much louder and more insistent sound, one designed to get my attention. 

I sit bolt upright, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. I’m sure Jon was awakened too, but he probably has no idea what it is or why it’s so loud. Without thought of my hand, I slap the comm button – it shuts off the noise but makes my hand hurt like hell. I didn’t put the gloves back on last night, and make a mental note to be sure to do that after I find out what the hell is going on that can’t wait till morning.

When I see the Starfleet Command code screen appear, I’m immediately worried. I’ve never gotten a message from them on this private channel. Jon has gotten out of bed and pushes my desk chair close enough for me to sink down onto it so I can key in an authorization code to go along with the voice authentication. 

“Oh my god. No. God, _no_!” I reread the short message three times, hoping I’ve missed something. But the words are all still there on the screen. Jon has been standing over by the viewport, allowing me to read the message privately. But I have to tell him… have to tell someone, and I know this is going to hit him hard, but he needs to know it. 

“Jonathan, you’d better sit down too.” He gives me a worried look, but doesn’t question the suggestion.

“What is it? It must be some pretty bad news. I haven’t seen you look so pale since you passed out in that accessway.”

There’s no easy way to say it. “The _Discovery NX-01_ has been destroyed. They were on a mission, in deep space. There aren’t any details provided, except that there appear to be few, if any, survivors. And it was an attack, not an accident.”

Jon’s face turns as white as mine must look to him. His voice is hoarse. “A.G.'s ship? Any word about the Captain? He was a friend…” His voice trails off as he tries to process this. “Probably a lot of friends on that ship… finally out there after all those years…” 

There’s nothing more to see on that screen. I join Jonathan on the edge of the bed, shivering suddenly. He pulls the blanket around our shoulders as we sit side-by-side trying to comprehend the magnitude of what has happened.

His next words are almost a whisper. “I should have been there. Maybe there’s something I could have done differently.” Of all the possible reactions he might have had, guilt is the last I would have expected. I don’t know much about the circumstances of his leaving Starfleet, or his relationship with Robinson or any of the others, other than that they were friendly rivals when they were both on the command track. 

He’s fallen silent, and I rest my hand on his knee, knowing nothing I can say will help. Then the comm signal blares again. This time the message is jointly signed by Starfleet Admiral Forrest and my own commanding officer. It’s very brief, and I read it aloud to Jon. I’m to return to Earth immediately. Transport will be provided and I’m to remain here until notified about the arrangements. 

“Sounds like they want you back there pretty badly.” Jon has been gathering up our clothing and rummages in his duffle for clean things. “If they have some kind of transport they can arrange to collect you from way out here.”

I pull on the gloves… slowly and carefully, but I want to be sure I can do it myself. “It will still take at least a week, I’m sure. Unless there’s a ship of some sort in the area, which seems unlikely.”

Jon lets out a long breath. “A week… I’m not used to thinking in those terms anymore. A freighter would take months. Does Starfleet have another NX class ship?”

Boots are a challenge. I manage to pull them on though, without too much pain. “The _NX-02_ is under construction. But that ship is nowhere near ready to launch. They wanted to get some experience with the _Discovery_ first, to help determine what systems needed to be modified.” I add, almost under my breath, “besides the weapons and defensive capability.”

He hears that, of course. He was meant to – I trust him. “I take it this is an old issue between you and the powers that be in Starfleet.”

“It is. And my recommendations have always been discounted. ‘This is a ship of exploration, not a battleship.’ I was told again and again. By Starfleet, by their Vulcan advisors… Maybe they’ll realize now that it needs to be both.”

Jon meets my eyes, and his are sad. “I suppose it does. I probably would have argued the exploration viewpoint, but after being out here – and now after hearing about this – I think you’re right.” He turns to the viewport, gazing out in silence for several minutes. “It’s a delicate balance though. I don’t know if I’d get it right.”

It feels cruel, mentioning this when he seems so vulnerable, but I have to ask again. “Would you consider going back to Starfleet? That NX-02 ship is going to need officers. They’ve lost an entire crew, Jonathan. I think Admiral Forrest might be glad to have you back.”

He turns abruptly away from both the viewscreen and me, but doesn’t reply right away. I don’t know if the idea had occurred to him yet today. We spoke of it a few days ago, but he didn’t think anyone would be interested in his return, and felt he had an obligation to the _Horizon_. I’m sure he realizes things just changed. 

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. I’m still not sure I can be what they need anymore.” He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, seeming to strive for calm. I lay a hand on his arm, offering what comfort I can.

“You have a lot to offer. Don’t discount your time and experience out here. Hauling freight isn’t shuttling a cruise ship between vacation worlds. Would you mind if I spoke to the Admiral when I’m back on Earth? Just to mention that I’ve met up with you and told you about the _Discovery_. If he’s interested, he could take it from there. I wouldn’t push.” I honestly don’t know if going back there is the right thing for Jon or not. But I’m convinced it would be the right thing for Starfleet.

He nods and covers my hand with his, a gesture of silent acceptance of what little I can offer him.

We’re both wide-awake and dressed. There’ll be no more sleep tonight for either of us. I think we need to take a walk at least. “You look like you could use a drink, Jon. Or maybe some food if it’s too early for drinking.”

“No argument there. I could use a shot of bourbon right about now. I don’t think the bars close on this station – they run a three-shift operation here. Let’s see what we can find."

 


	12. Chapter 12

####  _Two months later, San Francisco_

I hope to hell I did the right thing when I talked to Forrest about Jon. I didn’t really expect him to react with such enthusiasm. 

I don’t know the Admiral well, having just rejoined Starfleet proper after my injury. I didn’t expect a promotion when I did, but it might be part of the void resulting from the loss of losing the entire crew of the _Discovery_.

Jon apparently hadn’t told anyone where he was going when he left abruptly after the warp program was put on hold. Well, almost no one. He left his dog with Ruby, the waitress at the 602 Club. I stopped in there last week – actually Admiral Forrest wanted to buy me a drink after he told me about my promotion… and he wanted to talk about Jonathan. He mentioned to Ruby that I’d seen Jon, and she said she’d always wondered where he was off to when he showed up one night and asked her to take care of his puppy. She got a very faraway look in her eyes, saying that was the best dog she’d ever had and she’d always wondered why Jon never came back for him.

Forrest told me then that he was going to get in touch with Jon, and ask that he consider returning to Starfleet. He said the new ship is going to need officers… and that Jon had been a fine one. 

I just don’t know if I’ve done him any favors. I know it’s the right thing for Starfleet, but for the man himself? He is something of an enigma – he said he has made his peace with the path he chose to the stars, but there was a wistfulness when he spoke of having hoped it would be somehow… more. 

And I know I haven’t done _us_ any favors. At least out there we could meet from time to time, frustrating as it is to see him so seldom. If one of us is assigned to the _NX-02_ … the voyages could last months or years. And if both of us were on board, that would present its own set of challenges, no matter what our relative ranks and positions were. 

But it’s up to Jonathan now. I’m not sure what he will decide to do. But I wish we could talk it through together. 

And I miss him.

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

###  Starfleet Headquarters – Private Communiqué

 

 ** _To:_** Jonathan Archer, _ECS Horizon_  
 ** _From:_ ** Maxwell Forrest, Starfleet Command

Jonathan, I was very glad – and relieved – to learn that you are safe and well. Communication with the ECS freighters is spotty and often delayed, so I hope this reaches you fairly quickly. I’ve pulled a few strings to expedite it. 

I assume that when you last met with Commander Reed, he told you the news about the loss of the _Discovery_ and the death of her Captain. I know you and A.G. were good friends, and we are all still reeling from the loss. 

It would be inappropriate to provide the classified details in a transmission like this, but I do want you to know that it was a very difficult situation that he found himself in, and he did all he possibly could to save his ship and crew. But there were no survivors. 

The Starfleet warp program will be continuing. If we learned anything at all from this tragedy, it is that we _need_ to be out there playing a role among the other spacefaring peoples. The NX-02, to be named _Enterprise_ , is still some time away from completion, but we are in the process of trying to identify potential officers. I am asking you to please consider making yourself available. I’m sure you have a host of good reasons for declining, but all I ask is that you think carefully about not only what you want to be doing, but also of what you have to offer Starfleet… and what your father might advise you to do. 

I’ve attached details for how to contact Cmdr. Reed and myself. Transport would be arranged for you to Earth from whatever freighter station is closest to your location.

But please don’t delay a decision. Officer selection and training for _Enterprise_ is scheduled to begin shortly. I want you on the short list, Jonathan.

 


	14. Chapter 14

####  _On the _Horizon_ in deep space_

I’m not sure why I’m hesitant about going back to Starfleet. Twenty years ago, when I walked away, I was certain of my choice. But this life has become easy, routine… and so lonely. Malcolm reminds me how much I miss being close to someone, falling asleep with him, waking in his arms, talking about nothing and everything. 

Of course he’s influencing my decision… making me look at how to spend the rest of my life, reminding me of all I’ve dreamed but haven’t done.

My father told me ‘you can’t be afraid of the wind.’ 

It just changed direction.

________________________________________

 

I need to tell Travis about this before I talk myself out of it somehow… and before I reply to Forrest and Malcolm. I owe him that much. 

“Do you have a few minutes, Travis?” He’s heading for the mess hall, and I fall in step beside him. 

“Sure do. What’s up? Are you going to tell me what that urgent comm message was about or are you going to keep us all in suspense for a little longer?” 

“Not much longer. Grab yourself something to eat first though.”

Picking up a glass of iced tea and a sandwich for myself, I find an empty table and wait for Travis to join me. He adds some chili sauce to his soup, smiling when he gets it just spicy enough. Meanwhile my lunch sits untouched. 

“About that message – it was from Starfleet. They’re reeling from the loss of the _Discovery_."

“I thought maybe it was from someone there. That’s such a terrible loss… all those people, the ship… almost the whole program.”

“They have another NX class starship under construction, but not ready to fly yet. Admiral Forrest told me they needed officers, and asked if I’d come back.” I take a deep breath and continue. “I’m considering it. I don’t want to leave you shorthanded though…”

Travis looks less surprised than I might have expected. “Maybe they want you to pilot it! Jon, that sounds like the chance of a lifetime. You’d damn well better take them up on it. We’ll miss you, but you’ve done a great job training your back-ups. Don’t think of letting that stop you if it’s what you want.”

“Thank you. I’ll do all I can to help make it a smooth transition here. I don’t know yet when I’ll be expected to go, or how I’ll get there, but Forrest said that would be arranged. I haven’t given him my answer yet, but will do that today if Tracy can give me a hand with the transmissions. The routings for them look pretty complicated.”

“I’m sure she will – she’ll miss you, you know. We all will. But I’m excited for you! Think of all the places you’ll get to see if you get on that ship!”

“I hope so. It wasn’t an easy choice to come out here when I did, and it’s no easier deciding to go back. This has become my home. But I know it’s what I need to do.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

####  _On the _Horizon_ , docked at station ECS-11_

The _Horizon_ just arrived at ECS-11. They were two weeks out from here, the closest station to them, and agreed to divert so that Jon could connect with transport for Earth. I know he’ll have things to wrap up before that and don’t want to interfere with anything he needs to do. But there is one thing I do ask of him. 

“Do you think the two of us could meet with Captain Mayweather for a few minutes? I want to make him an offer. I’d like for us to provide some upgrades for _Horizon’s_ shielding. I worked out an idea for it, based on the station system modifications I’ve been doing. It would give them a better chance to deter those Nausicaan attacks.”

Jon replies with a laugh. “I doubt he’d turn you down on that, for sure. Is this compensation for stealing his helmsman?” 

His tone is light, but there is an undertone that might be guilt. “Not at all, Jonathan. I do feel more than a little ambivalent about that part. But I wanted you to have a chance to make the choice about your future.”

He nods, brushing his fingertips along my sleeve. “And I did. It wasn’t an easy or obvious choice, but it’s the right decision… for both of us. And Travis understands it. I think he might be a bit envious, actually. He wants to fly a ship like the _NX-02_ so badly he can almost taste it. He’s a good Captain for the _Horizon_ , but the man’s a born pilot stuck on a freighter.”

“So you think he’ll accept the upgrades?”

“Count on it, Malcolm. We’ve talked so many times about how much it would help to be able to hold off some of those attacks.” Jon pauses, giving me a slightly suspicious look. “Are these officially authorized modifications? Not that he’d turn them down either way, but it’s good to know.”

Shaking my head, I can’t help laughing a little. Either Jon is getting pretty damn good at hearing what I don’t say, or my poker face is slipping badly. “No, nothing official. But it’s not like they’ll be inspected or anything… and if _Horizon’s_ engineers should decide to show their counterparts on other freighters how to do the modifications, then they’ll be safer too. Everyone wins.”

Jon’s smile is all the thanks I need.

 

_________________________________________________

 

####  _On station ECS-11_

Jon has been unusually quiet all afternoon. After making the modifications on the _Horizon_ , we had a late lunch with Travis and some of the engineers there. Rianna joined us for coffee, and was delighted to see how much my hands have improved, thanks to the rather unorthodox treatments I received back on Earth from a Denobulan physician… and his osmotic eels. She was intrigued and I promised her I’d try to put him in touch with her, since she sees so many cases of plasma burns.

Jonathan joined me on the station after he took his leave of the _Horizon_. Unsure of when we’d be leaving, we spent some time shooting pool in the arcade. I’m a bit rusty, but Jon seemed impressed. I told him that calculating the necessary trajectories was something I could pretty much do in my sleep, that the only trick was to keep a steady hand… and my hands are far from being as steady as they used to be before the injuries. But I still managed to win most of the time, though to be fair, he’s probably dealing with more than a few distractions right now. 

Back in my quarters, Jon has been gazing out the viewport for a long time when he suddenly turns, beckoning me to join him there. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that a Vulcan starship? There… see it? I’d know that design anywhere. I wonder what the damn Vulcans are doing way out here. That’s no freighter.”

I probably hesitate a moment too long before answering, and in our short time together he has learned to read me remarkably well. “It is, yes. Not their newest model, but that’s the _D'Kyr_.” 

“Do you know why they’d be here? I don’t think I’ve seen a Vulcan ship in all the years I’ve been running freight. Does it have anything to do with your defensive system upgrades?”

I take his hand and meet his eyes, owing him the truth, as I know it. “It’s here for you, to take you to Earth, unless you’ve changed your mind about going back.”

“Did you know about this? You said transportation was being arranged. I assumed… well I’m not sure what I assumed, but not a Vulcan ship. You know they were never exactly my biggest supporters.” He pauses to take a breath, trying to calm himself. “They had no faith at all in my father’s engines. They’re why I’m out here at all. Why the hell would they send a ship to help me get back to Starfleet?”

Slowly drawing him over to the bed, I settle close to him as he sits heavily on the rumpled blanket. He’s upset, and I can’t really blame him. There is a lot of pain there that he has buried for a long time. “Some things have changed, Jonathan. They’re still not completely supportive of our Warp 5 program, but they have some domestic issues of their own, and at least some of them are anxious for Earth – and Starfleet – to become a strong ally. Admiral Forrest told them he wanted you back in the program, and that you were willing. I don’t know if he asked or if they offered the ship.”

Jon takes a deep breath, exhaling very slowly, his hand tightening around mine. “I didn’t realize it was that important… that I would be that important to Forrest.” He turns to face me on the edge of the bed. “And you, will you be returning with me on that Vulcan ship… or do I have to deal with the lot of them alone?”

“I’ll be there. I’m finished out here and I asked to hitch a fast ride back with them, since they’re going that way.” Jon smiles at that, and I’m relieved to see it. Drawing his head closer, I kiss him, determined to make sure he forgets about Vulcans for the rest of the night. It could be our last chance to be alone together as simply Malcolm and Jon, without Starfleet complicating matters.

 


	16. Chapter 16

####  _On Earth_

Max Forrest didn’t waste any time. There were briefing materials waiting for me on the _D'Kyr_ , remarkably detailed despite being partially redacted as a nod to my civilian status. The crew manifest from the _Discovery_ made for rough reading. So many of them were more than just names to me. And it looked like Starfleet had put most of their top officers on that ship, hoping to develop an experienced core crew for the _NX-02_. That helped to explain the urgency in Forrest's message. He did need me. 

One name on _Discovery_ ’s manifest jumped out at me. There was a Crewman Daniels on board. The name isn’t uncommon though, and he was apparently a mess steward, so I doubt any connection with the future Daniels in the dream that still haunts me. I will ask Forrest about it sometime, but it might have to remain something to keep an eye out for in the future. 

Except for some courtesy meals with a few of the Vulcans, I spent most of my time with Malcolm. We talked for hours, about things at Starfleet, about what little he’d heard of events surrounding the _Discovery_ ’s last mission, and even a little bit about our pasts. He didn’t say a lot about his childhood or family, only that his father had been an admiral in the Royal Navy… and that by not following in his footsteps, Malcolm had been a disappointment to him. It made me glad I had the father I did. Henry Archer hadn’t always been the easiest man for his colleagues to get along with, but he’d been a wonderful dad to me. I think he’d be glad that I’ll have a chance at flying one of the NX ships. 

We were provided separate quarters on the _D'Kyr_ , but I don’t think Malcolm ever spent any time in his. During our nights together, there was an almost frantic edge to our couplings that I could only attribute to having been too long apart. I gave up any pretense of emotional detachment after his injury, and although we’ve never discussed it, I hope our relationship means as much to him as it does to me.

 

____________________________________

 

I've been back on Earth less than six months, reinstated in Starfleet at my old rank of Commander, and Forrest just told me he wants me to captain the _Enterprise_. I’d been thinking in terms of helmsman, or possibly executive officer once I saw how limited the pool of candidates with significant deep space experience really was. 

But no, he’d apparently been thinking of me for the captain’s chair ever since he wrote to me on the _Horizon_. Since my return, we've talked a lot about how he and Starfleet view the mission for the _Enterprise_. To my relief, it's more realistic than the purely exploratory charter of the NX-01. Make no mistake, exploration is in my blood, but my years on the _Horizon_ and my conversations with Malcolm make me certain that there will be involvement, willing or not, with hostile species as well as diplomatic overtures to be made alongside the scientific discoveries. 

Forrest also told me he saw a lot of change from the young officer who walked away twenty-two years ago – that I am no longer the eager young commander who played by the book and who would – and _did_ – take no for an answer. And he wants his next starship captain to look a lot more like what I am now than what I was then. 

In fact, he has no idea of how _not_ by-the-book I will be. As far as I can tell, there are no boomers in Starfleet – no one who has lived for years at a time, as I have, on a ship with only your crewmates to depend on for everything. That experience has certainly made me take a hard look at some of the Starfleet regulations that have been on the books since before I was even a cadet – regulations that Malcolm’s Navy father would undoubtedly recognize and endorse.

I do worry that Malcolm himself might be the rank-aware one. From the little he’s told me of his father, he was nothing if not a staunch supporter of a hierarchical command style and vehemently opposed to any whiff of fraternization. Malcolm walked away from the man and the Navy, but I don’t know how much of the rest he has internalized. 

But I can't wait to tell him the news!

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

####  _San Francisco – Jonathan's flat_

Jonathan and I have kept our relationship fairly quiet since being back on Earth, but we are by no means hiding it. He found a nice flat with a beautiful view over San Francisco Bay and I’ve spent much more time there than in the small place I’ve had for years near Starfleet HQ. 

When Jon messaged me this afternoon, he said he would have some news to share tonight, but it would have to be in private since it wasn’t finalized yet. He sounded pleased, and I told him I looked forward to hearing about it. He ordered in some lovely Indian curry and waited until we started to eat before telling me his news. 

“Forrest told me today that he wants me as the Captain of the _Enterprise_. I had no idea that’s what he had in mind when he told me he wanted me back here.”

I had wondered if Forrest had made his decision. The rumor mill has been buzzing, but I don't think Jon has ever paid much attention to it. 

“Congratulations! That’s wonderful for you. But I’ll admit it doesn’t surprise me as much as it seems to have caught you off-guard. I wasn’t sure what Forrest had in mind when I first told him about meeting you, but this seemed like a strong possibility.”

Jonathan smiles and leans over to kiss me. “You never told me your suspicions. I really had no idea.”

“No, I wasn’t sure and didn’t want to have to deal with that before it was certain.”

I knew it would happen. His smile fades and he gets a very worried look in his eyes. “You’re not sure I’d make a good captain? Talk to me, Malcolm – this seems important.”

Putting down my fork, I reach over to rest my hand on his. “Not at all. I think you’ll be a great captain – the best possible choice for _Enterprise_ , for the Warp 5 program, and the best opportunity for you.” I take a deep breath and continue, owing him the honesty. “I worry about whether it will be a good thing for _us_ … our relationship will change.”

He looks stunned, as if I’ve hit him with something unexpected. Surely he must have realized what this would mean… if I were serving on _Enterprise_ as well, he’d be my superior officer. And surely Starfleet still has fraternization regulations on the books. 

Jonathan has stopped making any attempt to even push the food around on his plate. He sighs as he turns his hand to clasp mine. “I don’t think that it has to change, Malcolm. But maybe you should tell me what worries you most.” After a long pause he continues. “You’ve told me a bit about your father. Does this have to do with his views about fraternization?”

I haven’t shared a lot of details about my family or childhood, but I can’t argue that Stuart Reed was anything but a stereotypical old-school Royal Navy admiral. He always tried to run his family as he would his fleet, which led to inevitable conflicts with me, the son he’d hoped would follow in his footsteps. 

But this discussion is unavoidable now. “When we were in deep space, there was no rank to matter. I’m just not sure how comfortable I will be in trying to maintain our relationship on board _Enterprise_ , with you as my Captain and commanding officer.” I stop abruptly, realizing I’ve just made an assumption. “That is, if you are considering me as a possible member of your crew…”

Once again, Jonathan looks as if I’ve taken him completely off-guard. “Of course I want you on _Enterprise_! I was going to wait until the official announcement so I could ask you as Captain, but I’ll tell you now unofficially. I want you as my Tactical and Armory Officer, if you’re willing. I’ve looked through a lot of personnel files already. There’s no one else I want to trust with the safely of my ship and crew. And I’ve seen you in action when that station was under attack.”

It’s my turn to be surprised and don’t know quite what to say. “I’m honored, of course. I didn’t expect both assignments, but it would be good to be able to coordinate both aspects.” I’m rewarded with a smile, for the moment at least. “But that does leave us in the relative positions of Captain and Commander.” 

I make sure to catch his eyes; I don’t want him to misinterpret this. “It has nothing to do with the two of us personally – my feelings are unchanged. But it has everything to do with how I’ve always viewed the command structure… and yes, fraternization.”

He sighs again, dropping my hand and picking up his beer glass, but putting it down again without taking a sip. “I’ve said this to Forrest, and I’ll tell you too. My command style isn’t traditional – it wouldn’t be traditional in the Royal Navy, and it isn’t what some might expect in Starfleet. But it’s something I’ve thought a lot about, and I’ve already told Forrest not to expect a by-the-book captain. He didn’t ask for specifics, and I didn’t offer any, but he still wanted me for the job.”

After pushing his plate to the side, Jon turns toward me, taking my hand in both of his. “Can you trust me on this, Malcolm? We can work through it together. I don’t expect anything less than professional behavior on duty, from either of us.” His fingertips caress mine as he speaks. “But I am going to have a hard time pretending that _this_ never happened or doesn’t exist between us – between Jonathan and Malcolm, despite our also being the Captain and the Tactical Officer.”

I nod, reluctant to pursue all of the implications right now. It should be a happy day for him and I’m afraid I’ve spoiled it. “I’ll try. I don’t want to lose this either.” I take a deep breath and continue, wanting Jonathan to understand that I wouldn’t walk away from him casually. “I’ve never had a relationship that lasted very long. And my sister has even mentioned to me in her letters that this is new for me… that I sounded different when I mentioned meeting you.”

Jon smiles, not relinquishing my hand. “You never said you told your family about me.”

“Just Madeline. My sister and I have always been close. She would like you.” 

“I’d love to meet her someday. I’m glad you have her to share things with.”

“I hope you do get to meet her.” I veer back toward my original thoughts because things still need to be said. “I’ve worried about what would happen to us, ever since we first heard about the _Discovery_ , before I asked if I could tell Admiral Forrest I’d met you. I didn’t want to lose the connection between us… it’s important to me. But I guessed that I’d not be allowed to continue on my assignment in deep space when there was a new starship to staff. And I wanted you to have the chance at it too.”

Jon nods his agreement, and then pushes back from the table, going to stand by the window. It’s late evening, and the sun is sinking, vividly coloring both the sky and the water. I join him, slipping an arm around his waist as he draws me closer. We watch the sunset in silence. When there is only the lingering afterglow and the stars are becoming faintly visible, he picks up a thread of our conversation. 

“I missed this when I was on the _Horizon_. Sunsets, the ocean… we didn’t see enough of the planets that were our ports of call. I hope with _Enterprise_ we’ll have a chance to see more of the places we discover.”

He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, murmuring only “And I missed _this_ … once I’d met you, my life on the _Horizon_ felt very lonely.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

####  _Six months later, San Francisco_

It’s good to be home again. After months of training exercises, including survival training in a full range of climates and conditions, I finally have some time back in San Francisco prior to the launch of _Enterprise_. The launch date has been pushed back once or twice, but with good reasons. I don’t want to launch without her full complement of defense systems being operational. Malcolm will be finishing his training soon as well, and will be able to keep an eye on the progress of those upgrades. And I’m definitely looking forward to our being together again. 

He hasn't said any more about his concerns about our relationship, and I haven't pressed him on it. I'm hoping he's working through things in his mind and will talk about it when he's ready. Meanwhile, we're together as usual when both of us are in town. 

Besides the Starfleet briefings – meetings that usually include too many Vulcans for my general comfort – I have a few things to take care of before we ship out. I'm glad to have found this apartment, a place to come home to between missions. I hadn't realized how much I missed the sea when I was living for years on end in deep space.

Most importantly, I adopted a dog. Porthos is a sweet-tempered beagle with eyes that pleaded with me to pick him when I visited the shelter. I don’t know his history but he’s well trained and is going to be a great companion for us on _Enterprise_. To my surprise, Max Forrest didn’t even put up more than a token argument against it.

Porthos made friends with Malcolm right away, and although he was a bit skeptical about having a dog on the ship, I think Porthos won him over. I see Malcolm frequently slipping him a treat or two, and he seems to like sleeping on the floor by Malcolm's side of the bed... since sleeping _on_ the bed isn't an option.

When I took him to meet Ruby at the 602 one afternoon, she fussed over him and fed him treats too, telling me that she thought we suited each other. But when she added that she was glad I wouldn’t have to leave anyone behind when I took off for the stars this time, I knew she wasn’t just talking about Porthos.

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

####  _Six weeks before launch - San Francisco_

I’m standing at the door of Jonathan’s flat in San Francisco. I’ve been here countless times, and even know the key code, but tonight is different and I don’t want to just let myself in. 

When I first told him I wasn’t sure how comfortable I would be in maintaining our relationship on _Enterprise_ with him as my Captain and commanding officer, I’m afraid it caught him by surprise. He wanted to know why, and I tried to assure him that it was nothing to do with the two of us… my feelings were unchanged… but had everything to do with how I had always viewed the command structure. 

He told me his command style wasn’t traditional, but that he would never push for more than I was able to offer… or to accept. And he wouldn’t. But I’m not sure it’s fair to him to keep pretending that I’m going to be able to work through the issues I have with it. So we need to talk about it again. 

I’m still hesitating. I’ve almost convinced myself to just walk away and not put him through this, when the door suddenly opens and Porthos bounds out to greet me. He doesn’t usually jump up on people, but he knows I might have something for him, so his paws are on my legs immediately. I stoop to pet him, and look up to see Jon smiling at the two of us. I rummage in my pocket to find the treat I brought for Porthos, earning his renewed affection. 

Jon is dressed very casually, his white tee shirt and jeans a strong contrast to my buttoned-up uniform. “I was just doing some reading when Porthos heard something. I assumed it was just someone passing by on the way to the elevator. But he stood at the door until I got up and opened it. I wasn’t expecting you back tonight, but I’m glad to see you!”

“It’s fine. Porthos has good ears. And I was just about to ring the door chime. Do you have a few minutes, sir?”

He winces at the ‘sir’ but nods and invites me in, Porthos at my heels. “You could have just come in, you know. It never disturbs me and you’re always welcome.” Sitting down on the sofa, he looks at me expectantly. “What can I do for you, Malcolm? Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you. Not right now.” Suddenly feeling awkward, I get to the point of my visit. “When I was sorting my things between training missions, I realized that I had still had your book… the Yeats poems. I wanted to return it to you.” I start to put it on his desk, but change my mind and take the few steps across the room to hand it to him. He looks surprised, and our fingers touch for a moment as he accepts it. 

He gives me a puzzled look, not really understanding what I’d rather not have to say. “Is something wrong, Malcolm? You seem uncomfortable. Please, won’t you sit with me for a few minutes? Maybe we can talk about whatever is bothering you.”

I probably shouldn’t, but I don’t really want to refuse, so I sit down next to him, though not as close as I would normally prefer to be. Porthos hops up onto the sofa after me and rests his head on his paws, nosing into the space between us. 

There’s no good way to say this. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I don’t think I’ve found a way to be comfortable with continuing our relationship… with you as my Captain.” He doesn’t reply, but I see him bite his lip and there’s a sadness in his eyes as I continue. “It’s nothing to do with you, or how I feel about us. It’s just too ingrained in me that it’s something one just doesn’t do.” I sigh, looking down at the book he’s still holding. “I know this must make no sense at all to you.”

Jonathan must have followed my gaze, because he doesn’t answer me directly. I was prepared to argue the point, but his voice is soft. “You can keep the Yeats, you know. Most of those poems are in my head anyway.”

“I couldn’t do that – it was your mother’s book. I know how much it means to you.”

Glancing up at his face, I catch a bit of a smile. “It means even more to me to know you’re enjoying it. It sounds like you had it with you on your training mission.” He pauses, absently stroking Porthos’ head and ears, as if considering whether to say more. “Do you remember the night on the _D'Kyr_ when I had that headache? When you sat close to me as I rested on the bed with my eyes closed, and you stroked my hair and read Yeats aloud to me.”

I nod, remembering it well. 

“I’ll never read that poem again without hearing it in your voice… _When you are old and grey and full of sleep..._.”

I whisper the next words. “ _Take down this book, and slowly read…_ ” 

He reaches for my hand, and I don’t pull away. It feels warm and comfortable. We sit together in silence for a few minutes before he hands me back the book. “Keep it for a while longer, Malcolm. I’m not going anywhere. Read it when you want to relax and remember we how enjoyed it together.”

Not really trusting myself to say anything, I squeeze his hand before getting up to go. He comes to the door with me; Porthos has fallen asleep on the cushion. I hold the book tightly. 

“Thank you… Jonathan.” I’m sure he knows it’s not only thanks for the Yeats. 

“You’re very welcome. Goodnight, Malcolm.” 

Before I ring for the lift, I pause for a few minutes at the large window near it. It’s a clear night, and the last words of that poem linger in my mind – _Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled… and hid his face amid a crowd of stars_.

 

____________________________________________

 

_The next day_

Malcolm came by last night after he got in from a training mission, having convinced himself that he isn’t going to be able to see past my rank. He thought he should return my book, but I want him to keep it for now. It seems to be a connection between us that I'm loath to sever.

We just talked, sitting together on the couch. I took his hand, nothing more. I don’t think either of us wants things to go on this way, especially not now that we finally have a chance to be together. But it seems like change will take time.

He needs to find a way to reconcile his deeply ingrained expectations of a Captain with my command style and philosophy. I think he can, and as I told him, I’m not going anywhere. That he even came here to see me, that he played with Porthos, and didn’t draw away when I took his hand tells me that he still wants this… wants us to be together… but he hasn’t quite found his way back to that yet.

Serving together will be an adjustment for both of us, interacting with each other every day, as we will be doing. Our relationship grew out of brief times spent together followed by long enforced separations and silence. Of course, I'd prefer things to be the way they were when we were together. But I know I’ll still be happier just to work with him, sharing experiences and building trust between us, than I ever would have been had we chosen to continue only passing in the night.

But god, I miss him already. I reach for Porthos, very glad for his company right now.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

###  **_Personal Log – Malcolm Reed_**

I’ve moved into my quarters on _Enterprise_. Even though we’re still at least three weeks from launch, there is a lot to be done in the Armoury and it’s good to be on hand to keep an eye on it – in between training missions anyway. Tomorrow I’ll have to start an official log, too. I need to get back into the habit of separating my personal and professional lives… if I even get to have a personal life at all.

I’d forgotten how Starfleet wants to regulate everything. Years of doing covert ops and tactical systems development gave me a less constrained lifestyle. Not that I, or anyone else, would call the Section’s controls anything other than restrictive. But when I was offworld or undercover, I didn’t have to account for every moment of my life. The less of a document trail the agent left, the better – it made denying everything easier for them. I’m glad to be finally free of that, even though it means dealing with Starfleet’s version of control.

When the _Enterprise NX-02_ finally breaks orbit, I’m to be her Tactical and Armoury officer, at the request of Captain Jonathan Archer. One of the things he requested before accepting the command was the option to choose his key officers. I think Admiral Forrest would have granted him that without his having to ask; he was so anxious to get him back from that freighter to command Starfleet’s new high warp starship.

Jonathan’s choices were interesting – besides me, he picked his chief engineer, his communications/linguistics specialist, and a chef. And I encouraged him to accept the Denobulan physician Starfleet suggested. Dr. Phlox has some highly unorthodox treatment methods, but he and his osmotic eels did an amazing job of restoring full function to my hands after the plasma burns made free movement of some of my fingers nearly impossible.

Apparently, what Jonathan had little choice about was the presence of a Vulcan science officer. It’s a condition set by the Vulcan High Command as the price for access to their star charts and database. It’s to be one of the Vulcans we met on the _D'Kyr_ , and I’m not sure she’s any happier about the assignment to an Earth starship than the Captain is to have her on board.

As for me, I couldn’t say no to him… not when he asked as Captain, and not when Jonathan asked me first in private. It’s what I first dreamed of when I left home to join Starfleet. But it’s going to make my life… and his… a great deal more complicated.

 

###  **_End Personal Log_**

 


	21. Chapter 21

####  _On Shuttlecraft One - Test flight_

 

_“Dear Madeline, This will probably be the last message you receive from me. During a test of some new shuttlecraft upgrades, we took severe damage from an unknown source. In addition to damaging communications, whatever hit us penetrated our oxygen tanks and Commander Tucker and I will be running very low on atmosphere before rescue can arrive…”_

“Malcolm, could you stop with the letters of doom and give me a hand here? Looks like the navigation system is pretty well fried, but I’m trying to boost the signal on the distress beacon. It’s not much, but it’s our best hope for a rescue.”

“Commander, your optimism is admirable, but misplaced. I don’t see anything wrong with trying to leave some messages for the people we’ll be leaving behind. But I’ll do what I can to help.”

We manage to get the beacon deployed, and decide that lowering the cabin temperature significantly should improve the efficiency of the atmospheric recyclers. It will give us a little more time. There are other messages I need to compose and I'm only halfway through the list when Trip again interrupts my dictation. 

“Malcolm, we all face a crisis situation in our own ways. I get that. But, to be perfectly honest, your pessimism is driving me crazy. Come over here and eat something. It might warm you up a little.”

Abandoning the incomplete message, I join him, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders and struggling to unwrap a ration bar with fingers that seem much more uncooperative than they should be. 

“Need a hand with that?”

I shrug and let him open the foil package. “It must be the cold. My fingers have been more sensitive to it after I burned my hands. Thank you, Trip.”

“No problem. Cap’n told me about that plasma fire and you working right through it to get the system operational. Hell of a fine job, but you’re lucky to still have use of your hands at all.” 

“He acted fast to get me medical attention. And then Dr. Phlox worked some minor miracles when I got back to Earth.”

After eating in silence, Trip rummages for another blanket, offering to share it. “You know, Malcolm, there’s something I have to ask you. All those farewells you were writing… what about one to Jon? Don’t you think he deserves a goodbye too?”

“Commander, I don’t think it’s any of your business… “

Trip holds up a hand to stop my protest. “Look, I know it’s not my place to meddle in your relationship issues, but the Cap’n is my friend too. I’ve known him since before he took off for that freighter. And I can tell when he’s hurtin'. When he got back to Earth, he seemed like a different man than when he left – so much happier somehow.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I knew Jonathan had known Trip a long time, but hadn’t realized they were still close. Trip was the first person he had selected for the _Enterprise_ crew though, so I knew he must be a good engineer.

Ignoring my silence, Trip continues. “Then something happened. I don’t know what the hell it was about, but you might want to think about sorting it out with him. Or at least write him a goddamn farewell message.”

I know I should. But somehow, saying goodbye to Jonathan makes this whole business of dying more personal than I wanted it to be. I’ve been in some bad situations before, but if I’m brutally honest about it, there was no one to care, aside from my sister. Now, despite the distance I’ve tried to put between us, there is Jonathan. 

Trip seems to be taking my silence for assent and he hands me a PADD. “Here, use this – you don’t have to dictate it out loud. Just write him a message. I promise not to read over your shoulder.”

Knowing he’s right, I begin typing – it’s slow going with my half frozen fingers. And I’m not sure my shivering is entirely due to the cold.

___________________________________

 

When I open my eyes, I’m in what looks like the Sickbay on _Enterprise_. I don’t remember anything about a rescue. I must have fallen asleep and slipped into unconsciousness. 

And Jonathan is standing by my biobed. I can feel the warmth of his hand on my chest as his eyes meet mine. “I’m alive…?”

His smile warms me too. “You’re lucky, Malcolm... another few hours might have been too late.”

“Trip?”

“He’s fine too, sleeping right now. You were both unconscious when the rescue team located the shuttlecraft. We still aren’t sure what hit you. But the team brought your duffles and personal things before the shuttle was towed to Jupiter Station for repairs.” 

He pauses for a moment. “You were clutching a PADD when they found you.”

I close my eyes at the memory of what I had been trying to write. “Did you read it?”

Jonathan shakes his head, patting my shoulder. “No, I would only have done that if you didn’t make it, as part of an investigation.”

I wish the blankets weren’t tucked so tightly around me. I would like to reach for his hand. “I want you to... It was a message for you. It’s important.”

He nods his assent. “I will, if that’s what you want.”

Our conversation is interrupted by a familiar voice. “Mr. Reed needs to sleep and let his body warm up a few degrees more, Captain. You can speak with him more in the morning. He’ll be in good hands here.”

Jonathan rests his hand on my chest again, almost as if reassuring himself of my heartbeat, then lightly touches the hand I’ve managed to free from the blankets. “Sleep now, Malcolm. Doctor’s orders. I’m just grateful you’re alive.”

Before he leaves, he looks over to the other side of the room where Trip must be sleeping, then turns back to me. “Good night now…”

I hope he can hear my whisper. “Goodnight, Jonathan.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

Dear Malcolm, 

I know _Enterprise_ is due to launch soon and I wanted to wish you safe travels… and happiness.

The news is full of Captain Jonathan Archer. You haven’t said so, but I suspect this is your Jon, the man you met in deep space. I’m glad you’ll get to be together for more than the brief moments you had out there.

Does your silence about him mean you’re worried about how appropriate your relationship might be? I’ll say only that life is fragile and uncertain. It was clear that you loved him – you’ll regret it if you walk away now. 

With love,   
Maddy

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

####  _On Enterprise – the night before launch_

Standing in the corridor on E deck, just outside the Captain’s quarters, I have a moment that feels like déjà vu. I suddenly remember standing outside his flat in San Francisco a few weeks ago, uncertain about whether or not I should ring the door chime.

I know this still might not be easy, but we need to try. As much as I’ve wanted to put my upbringing behind me, not to let my father have the final word about how I live my life, it still surfaces at odd moments. As long as Jonathan can accept that, I don’t want to live my life alone… and as I discovered on that shuttlecraft, I don’t want to die alone. 

My sister’s latest message to me, which I received after the shuttle accident, helps confirm that I’ve made the right decision. So often, she seems to know me better than I know myself. 

This time, as I stand outside Jonathan’s quarters, there’s no hesitation. I press the chime and the door slides open. 

“Malcolm?” My name is a question and I don’t have to think about the answer. I simply kiss him, my arms finding their own way around him to draw him close. I’ve missed this. When the kiss ends, I remain in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest.

But before getting lost in his welcome, I remember to hand him the Yeats. “I’m returning this now, Jonathan. I promise I’ll read it aloud to you whenever you like.”

"We'll have time for that. For now, I'll use my own words, if we need any."

There are times when silence speaks eloquently enough.

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

####  _Launch Day - _Enterprise_ _

This has been a long time coming, but it feels good to finally be stepping onto the bridge of an NX starship. My ship – _Enterprise_. I’m excited to finally get underway and see what’s out there. 

The departure rituals were minimal. I think Starfleet made a big ceremony of the launch of the _Discovery NX-01_ , with film clips from Zefram Cochrane and plenty of VIPs in attendance. I’m just as glad to skip that – it was A.G.’s well-deserved moment and I’d never take anything from that. They were the first, proving that the engine design was sound and that humans were more than ready to take their place in the community of spacefaring races. Now it’s up to us to carry on what they started. 

Max Forrest accompanies me to the ship, but takes his leave before I enter the turbolift to the bridge. “Good luck, Jonathan. You’ve got a fine ship and crew.” I shake his hand as he adds, “Henry would have been proud to see this day.” 

“Thank you. I’m anxious to get underway. There’s a nebula that needs some investigation – and I promise I’ll keep an eye out for any sign of those Suliban who attacked the Discovery. We need to learn more about them.”

“Agreed. Be careful, Captain. And Godspeed.”

___________________________________________________

 

I take a deep breath as the lift opens onto the bridge. Everyone else is already there. Commander Tucker announces in a loud voice, “Captain on the Bridge!” and they all stand. I laugh, knowing Trip had been threatening to do just that. 

“As you were.” Pausing at the back of the bridge, I add, “And that’s not something I expect to hear again. You all have much more important things to do than worry about my comings and goings.”

Moving down by the captain’s chair, I slowly look around at each of my officers in turn with a smile or a nod of welcome. Last of all, I turn toward Malcolm’s tactical station. I’ve felt his eyes on me since the turbolift door opened and when I finally look to him, we share a long moment of unspoken communication. 

There is reassurance in his eyes, reminding me that this is really where I belong and that he’ll always have my back. Malcolm has a fiercely protective streak and he’s the whole ship’s defender, but as he has told me, his job is also to protect the Captain. I know he’ll do just that – we’ve already had some debates about security arrangements, but that will always be part of the give and take between us. And there’s no one I’d trust more.

With a last small nod to Malcolm, which he returns with just a hint of a smile on his lips, I take my seat and order the helmsman to set a course and speed. It feels a little strange not to be doing the flying myself, but I can get used to this. 

“Take us out, Mister Tanner. Straight and steady. Once we’re clear, prepare for warp.”

_Enterprise_ feels like home already.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The poem quoted in Chapter 19 is [When You Are Old](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/172055) \- W.B. Yeats


End file.
